


Impossible Year

by Laramidian_Phantoms



Series: When So Many Have Died [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 9/11, Characters will be added as their stories are introduced, Everyone is little, Gen, Lots of Crying, lots of emotions, mentions of suicide: chapter 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramidian_Phantoms/pseuds/Laramidian_Phantoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On September 11th, 2001, four airplanes were hijacked. Three made their targets, one was flown into the ground.</p><p>On September 11th, 2001, some lives were barely brushed by the hijackings. Others were changed forever.</p><p>(Set-up for things that are mentioned in other stories in the 'When So Many Have Died' AU, chapter sizes will wildly fluctuate.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible Year

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the P!ATD song, general mood and feel of that song will greatly add to the tone of this fic.
> 
> There will be some very gruesome things described in this fic, so please be careful.

Alex woke up as the sun rose, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The salty air of the ocean flooded his lungs, and he turned towards the small analog clock by his bedstand.  _ 7:30, good _ , he thought as he turned to roll off the bed. He planted his bare feet on the ground and walked out of the small, dull room into a large wooden hallway. He walked to the bathroom down the hall and knocked.

 

“Hrrho,” a muffled voice said, and Alex smiled.

 

“Edward, finish brushing your teeth, I gotta help open up the shop,” Alex replied through the door. He heard some faint brushing, a spit, and the faucet being turned on. Within a few minutes, Edward Stevens was staring back at him.

 

Edward was possibly the only friend-like person Alex had on the small vacation-fueled island of Nevis. After Edward’s father had hired Alex to do order processing in the main branch of the multi-island hotel chain that Mr. Stevens ran. The job was lucrative and busy, exactly what Alex needed in order to get out of dodge.

 

“Morning,” Edward replied, and Alex smirked.

 

“Morning,” he said, rushing into the bathroom and closing it behind him. After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, he went back to his room-- _ his room, his clothes, his books, but not his desk and bed. And yet, his room _ \-- to change into the work uniform. Khaki shorts, light blue button-up shirt with white undershirt, little white tag inscribed ‘Alexander’, black sandals. Alex reached for a black golf hat with two white stripes until-- _ Tuesday, indoors, no hat _ , he remembered, and he reached instead for a worn hairtie and put his hair into a small ponytail. It had just barely reached ponytail length, and Alex was happy that he could put some refinement back into his image on indoor days. He strode out of the room, hopping down the steps into the kitchen.

 

“Chill out Alexander, you’ve still got 30 minutes until you have to be there,” Edward said from the counter where he was making his own lunch. “And besides, you haven’t even had your coffee.”

 

“Don’t need it,” Alex replied. “I’m too young to have a proper coffee.”

 

“Says who,” Edward said, turning around and grabbing a nearby mug and taking a sip. Edward was dressed in similar clothing to Alex, and if you didn’t know the two you’d say that they were twins. But Edward’s hair was short and curly, and his cheekbones a little sharper. Alex’s nose was slightly sloped, and his eyes large.

 

“Says me,” Alex replied, striding over and opening cabinets to assemble a lunch.

 

“But you know who does need a coffee,” Edward taunted, and Alex sarcastically tilted his head towards Edward.

 

“My boss, your father,” Alex replied, and Edward grinned.

 

“You know, he’ll like you if you bring him coffee,” Edward mentioned cooly, and Alex shook his head.

 

“He already likes me, Ed,” Alex replied, stuffing a bag of sweet plantain chips into a brown paper bag. “I don’t need more of his sympathy since he’s done so much for me already.”

 

Edward shrugged. “Certainly wouldn’t hurt getting a promotion.”

 

Alex turned, catching Edward’s attention. “Listen, I’m his number-one earner, his fastest learner, there’s no way he can keep me on the back burner forever.”

 

“Yes he can,” Edward said, “especially when I also do a very similar job to you.”

 

Alex guffawed. “Yes, because being the first-aid-lifeguard on-duty at the pools makes you on equal-level with the kid who keeps the entire business’ receipts in order.” Alex wrapped up his bag and walked to the table, where a previously-packed satchel was resting in a chair. He stuffed the lunch in as Edward leisurely followed him.

 

“You know I was kidding,” Edward said, and Alex nodded.

 

“Of course, Ed,” he replied, looking up at Edward. “I’m just… I can’t afford to not get a payraise.”

 

Edward blinked. “You live with us, dude, don’t worry.”

 

“But I don’t want to live here  _ forever _ . Just until I can support myself fully, y’know?”

 

“Dad won’t let you leave until you’re 18,” Edward briskly replied, and Alex shook his head.

 

“You  _ gringos _ and your legal ages. We’re not in the US,” Alex retorted, slinking his bag over his shoulder. “Anyways, I’mma head over.” He made his way to the glass sliding door to the footpaths.

 

“Alright,” Edward replied. “Just don’t forget that Senorita Rosario is expecting completed math sets after dinner.” Alex stopped just short of the door and cursed. Edward laughed.

 

“Don’t worry, I put your packet in your bag,” Edward said.

 

Alex turned toward him. “Is it done?”

 

“Psh, no,” Edward spat, “But I’ll be over during lunch break to help you make sense of the unit circle.”

 

“Thanks,  _ amigo _ ,” Alex said, smiling. He pulled the glass door open and strode out, letting the full saltiness of the sea hit his face.

 

***

 

Alex was sitting in his small office when he heard shocked gasps and swearing from just outside his door. He looked at his clock on the desk.  _ 9:46, too early for something truly terrible to happen with incoming tourists _ , he thought, and so he stood up from August’s spending accounts across Nevis and walked outside, to be met face-to-face with Mr. Stevens. His face was ashen, and shock tugged at his mouth.

 

“Sir--” Alex began, but then Mr. Stevens pulled him into the main lobby, where the cleaning crew, kitchen staff, and a few local businessmen were gathered around a small TV screen. Alex looked at the TV.

 

“Puneta,” Alex muttered, and as he took a quick glance at Mr. Stevens to see how disappointed he would be at Alex’s vulgarity, but all he did was nod slightly. Alex looked back at the screen in shock.

 

On the screen, two very tall buildings were on screen, and one of the buildings had smoke billowing from it. The surrounding news text said “PLANE FLIES INTO WORLD TRADE CENTER IN MANHATTAN”.

 

***

 

At noon, Edward walked in. Alex had moved to be near the TV after the second plane hit, bringing some of the less-sensitive work out into the open. Edward sat on the floor next to him, moving past the tourists who were also sitting in the lobby watching the screen. Pictures of the collapsed buildings, the Pentagon, the plane crashed in Pennsylvania, and on-ground video of firefighters were on the screen with reporters speculating over the images.

 

“What do you think will happen with tourism,” Edward dryly asked, and Alex jumped. He hadn’t noticed Edward’s appearance until just then, but he quickly recovered.

 

“I honestly don’t know. Flights in the states’ airspace has stopped entirely, from what CNN says,” Alex automatically replied.

 

“Do you think we’ll be affected?”

 

“If anything, people are going to want to escape,” Mr. Stevens said as he walked into the common area, sipping a cup of coffee. He had a separate TV in his office and had opted to work and watch there after tourists flocked the lobby. A few of the tourists turned to look at him.

 

“I don’t know how we’re going to get back,” an older gentleman with a strong Southern accent said. “Our plane from Puerto Rico was supposed to leave tomorrow evening.”

 

“I’ll be sure to set up a bulletin with updated travel information,” Mr. Stevens replied. “Alexander. Edward.”

 

Both Alex and Edward stood up. Edward helped gather some of Alex’s stray documents, and they walked across the lobby to Mr. Stevens.

 

“You want us to set up the bulletin, sir,” Alex inquired.

 

“Yes, please.” Mr. Stevens took out a card and handed it to Edward. “Go to the store and gather any supplies you boys think you need.”

 

“Sir,” Edward interrupted, “what about our lessons? We have some work--”

 

“Those have been postponed until Senorita Rosario can get in contact with her family, do not worry about catching up today,” Mr. Stevens rattled quickly. He turned to Alex. “While Edward is collecting materials, I want you to find out as much as you possibly can from the news sources. You can use the main desk’s computer, I’m going to be there contacting the other hotels.”

 

“Yessir,” Alex replied. “I was going to go grab a drink, would you like anything?”

 

“Yes, coffee, one cream five sugars,” Mr. Stevens replied. “Be back in 20.”

 

Alex nodded, and he rushed to go put his documents away. Today was going to be a long, long day.

 

***

 

Mr. Stevens, Edward, and Alex were still at the office when midnight rolled around. Both of the Stevens men were standing outside of Alex’s office, who was stapling together some news articles he had printed out. Alex glanced up at them. They seemed shaken by the attacks, moreso than any of the tourists had seemed to be. Other than the one woman, whose daughter worked at the Pentagon. She died.

 

Alex pushed the memory of her wailing on the floor out of his mind.  _ I don’t need to mourn for her. I have my own to mourn for. _ Once the articles were securely in his bag, Alex flicked off his office light and walked with them out of the building, passing the bulletin board with notices about boats between the mainland and the island, as well as current news updates.

 

They walked to the house in silence, and once they got inside Mr. Stevens went straight to his room. Edward went into the kitchen to grab a drink, and Alex gently went up to his room. He turned on the small desk lamp and extracted the small binder full of documents he had printed out about the attacks, as well as the transcript for Bush’s most recent speech.

 

_ “We will make no distinction between the terrorists who committed these acts and those who harbor them.” He’s essentially declaring war, or something close to it. _ Alex sighed. There was a gentle knock at his door. He looked behind him and saw Edward standing just in the doorway, cup of water in hand.

 

“Hey,” Alex lightly said.

 

“Please don’t stay up all night,” Edward calmly said. “I know that--”

 

“Ed, President Bush has essentially declared war,” Alex interjected. “And the wreckage, the articles--”

 

“Alex, no one knows what’s going on, and there probably won’t be any new information you can gather from reports that haven’t already been searched through by the US government, please just go to bed,” Edward snapped.

 

“But they’re missing something, they’ve got to be.”

 

“And even if they are, you’re just a 15 year-old from a vacation spot in the Caribbean. No one will listen to you.”

 

“There’s a lot of forum chatter about the entire thing being a conspiracy,” Alex said, turning to face Edward fully. “I can always--”

 

“Alexander, no,” Edward interjected, entering the room. “People died, people are mourning, and a nation is in emotional shambles. You are not--”

 

“If I find something though--”

 

“You won’t! And you know why? Because there are tens of thousands of grown men and women already sifting through every document and photo you have, every video you rewatched over and over again, and through the actual rubble itself, and they have been formally trained in how to write appropriately for a tragedy such at this, while you have the tact of a slug,” Edward said, breathless by the end. “I swear to God, your need to become known overrides your kindness sometimes, and right now people need kindness and support over attempts at fame. Surely you know what that feels like.”

 

Alex’s jaw slightly dropped. His eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you  _ dare _ \--”

 

“I have relatives that live and work in Manhattan. My uncle works at the World Trade Center. He was able to email my dad immediately after the attack to let him know that he was safe. He missed being killed because he spilled coffee on his shirt and left his apartment a few minutes late,” Edward sharply said, breathing heavy. “And you saw that woman in the lobby, the one--”

 

“I know,” Alex interrupted loudly. He covered his eyes. Tears were starting to stream down from the corners. “I know,” he continued softly. “Trust me, I…” He shuffled slowly over to his bed, and he could hear Edward’s footsteps following behind him. Alex climbed on, staring at the sheets. Edward climbed up next to him, folding his legs underneath him. Alex blinked away the tears and wiped his eyes with his hand, then wiped his hand on the sheet. He looked down at the hem of his shorts.

 

“I just,” he started, grimacing at how nasally his nose had become. “I have to do something, y’know? I have to try,” he said, glancing at Edward’s folded legs. Edward hummed, and Alex continued.

 

“I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop my mother’s death, I couldn’t stop my cousin’s suicide, I couldn’t stop the attacks, I can’t do anything to stop actual tragedy. But closure for something as complicated as the attacks, that’s something I could maybe help to provide, right?” Alex looked up at Edward, who looked sadly at Alex. “I could do something, couldn’t I?”

 

There was a moment of silence, in which Edward looked around the room, obviously thinking. He turned back to Alex, biting his lip.

 

“I don’t know, Alex. I mean,” Edward paused, sighing. “I don’t know what that’s like. I don’t… think like that. And I don’t know if anything I say could help. I mean, I’m just a teenager working for my dad’s tourism business hoping one day to get into medical school. I… I have no idea what it’s like to be you.” Alex bit his lip as Edward rambled, following the stitching line on his shorts with his eyes. Occasionally wiping away tears.

 

“I don’t know if it would help. But if it’s what you have to do to distract yourself, then do so. But please don’t dig yourself into a deep hole with no sleep, no food, and no human contact. I’m worried you’ll forget that you exist and need to take care of yourself,” Edward finished.

 

“It’s a shame I exist,” Alex muttered.

 

“Don’t say that,” Edward replied.

 

“But why am I here,” Alex suddenly said a little louder, looking at Edward with blurry eyes. “I’ve gone through hell, lost my family, and been so helpless to the world around me. It’s like I’m some ragdoll that continually gets thrown about, and I hate it. And I’m still here, for God know’s what reason.” He was gesturing wildly with his arms, his voice raised to a quiet shout and interrupted with cracks in his voice from the sobs threatening to break through.

 

“I just want it to stop. I want the screaming to stop, I don’t want to hear her screaming, I don’t want to hear the death, I don’t…” he sobbed, and finally his resolve shattered. He hid his face in his hands, crunched over himself, and cried. He shook and listened for the footsteps away that he expected.  _ Nobody likes to see a boy cry, and when they do they run away. _ He had emotionally collapsed in front of Edward many times in the past two years, but never this badly. There were footsteps, and he felt his bed rise slightly. He tried to quiet the sobs, and he looked up when the door closed.

 

Surprisingly, Edward was still in the room, and he closed the door. He walked back toward the bed as Alex’s body hiccuped between silenced sobs. Alex buried his face in his hands again as Edward sat down on the bed.

 

“Didn’t want to wake up dad,” Edward muttered. “Are you… do you… do you want a hug?”

 

Alex didn’t need to think twice about lunging for Edward, burrowing his head into Edward’s chest. He quietly sobbed into his chest, and Edward wrapped his arms around him.

 

After a few minutes, Alex’s sobs subsided, and only the occasional hiccups continued to permeate through. Alex backed away, causing Edward to let him go. Alex refused to look him in the eye, staring at the desk across the room.

 

“It’s okay,” Edward quietly said. “This shit’s hard.” Alex looked up at Edward briefly, noticing that Edward also had tears in his eyes.

 

“You haven’t lost anything,” Alex whispered. “You said so yourself. So why--”

 

“You’re like a brother to me,” Edward quietly replied. “And when I see you like this, it hurts.”

 

They stared at each other for a while, eyes shining with tears still. Alex slowly read Edward’s face, like he had many times before.  _ Eyebrows: worried. About me. Eyes: tear-filled. Relief, but also fear. Tired, too. Mouth: closed. Slightest pout. Genuine… sadness? Overall: worried. _

 

Edward opened his mouth to talk again. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully know what’s going on with you, but I’m here if you need someone, alright?”

 

Alex nodded, closing his eyes. He felt a tear trail down the side of his face, and he let out a shaky breath. “Same goes for you,” he muttered as he opened his eyes.

 

Edward huffed slightly. “I don’t know when I’d need it, honestly. But you are fun to hang out with, so I’ll probably keep you around.” He half-smiled, and Alex responded likewise. Edward stood up from the bed.

 

“I’m gonna head to bed,” Edward said, walking towards the door. “I’ll check up on you in the morning, alright?”   
  


“ _ Si, senor _ ,” Alex replied, nasal passages morphing the sound slightly. He sniffled, and groaned.

 

“Ugh, I hate crying,” he said jokingly, and Edward chuckled.

 

“It’s a drag,” he replied as he opened the door. “Goodnight, Alex.”

 

“Goodnight, Ed,” Alex replied, and Edward closed the door. Alex stared at the desk, hiccuping occasionally. His nose was too stuffed up to fall asleep, so he stood up and went over to the desk, sitting in the chair. He was exhausted, the words on the article on his desk swam together. But if he was going to be awake, he was going to think about specifics of the building damage, looking at images of the wreckage, and reading live-witness reports instead of hearing the woman’s screams, the screams of his cousin’s house maid, the screams he made when he realized his mother was dead.

 

***

 

Senorita Rosario’s family was fine, other than her father running the local radio with constant news updates. Her boyfriend, however, was found barely alive in the remains of the building set aflame by one of the tower’s collapses. He was in critical condition at a hospital in Manhattan, last Edward heard.

 

Alex didn’t leave his office when he was at work until Mr. Stevens said the woman was off the island. That was a week later.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at @rambleton or @laramidianphantoms on Tumblr. Thanks for reading!
> 
> In terms of notes for the first chapter:  
> Edward Stevens looks like Javier Munoz. Just FYI.  
> Also the whole Stevens thing is not in the musical, but if you've read the Chernow biography you know that he posits an interesting speculation about the family that "adopted" Hamilton after his cousin committed suicide. I kinda went to play with that.  
> Also: not at all sorry about In The Heights references. They'll be scattered throughout.  
> Also also: I'm sorry for lack of Spanish slang, I do not know Spanish that well. Hence why I made the Stevens family American. :coughsgentrificationcoughs:


End file.
